


Soulmates Aren't All They're Cracked Up To Be

by DemonMamoru



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, au-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7196657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonMamoru/pseuds/DemonMamoru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Chapter: For years, Leo has been afraid of hearing the words of his soulmate aloud. He comes to find out that so have they. Un-named, gender neutral reader (although I do think of this description as looking punk rock/grunge, and I don't headc anon them as any particular race/ethnicity so you can interpret it as your own identity, I try to keep it vague as possible so that you-the reader-can identify with the character. At least, that's how it turned out for this first chapter. ) </p><p>(Summary shall be updated with each added chapter to give the gist of what's gong on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leonardo and the Purple Dragoness

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Some chapters will read as gender neutral and others will be named readers with defined genders, and some will not. If you have a request for a reader/character chapter with a different gender/non-binary/other please leave a comment and I'll write something for it when I have the time. If you do have a request, then please leave it on the latest chapter because if a bunch of requests got piled on at the first chapter it would make things confusing. Also this was meant to only be 200-400 words by my muse ran away and this happened.

It's when everyone has been separated after a particularly chaotic battle with the foot that he notices you. He's seen you around before. You were one of the many homeless people in the city, and like many of them, the instant that anyone offered regular meals and shelter, you took it. The Purple Dragons had plenty of people that they lured into their ranks with that tactic.

 

Leo could see why. A full stomach with a place to sleep was a lot to someone who couldn't get it on their own. And plus, those people were usually fueled by hopelessness and fear, an easy combination that quickly lead to a ruthless and law-breaking mindset.

 

Instead of your normal shoulder length hair, it was trimmed to a messy pixie cut, with a shave on the left side above your ear. Your arm was red with a recent tattoo of a long bodied royal purple dragon wrapping around the Foot clan symbol. You must have just cleared initiation, and a difficult one at that, recently. The rest of your group was ahead of you, a broken windshield of a truck was on the side of the street.

 

One of them called out to you, and you shook your head, said something back. The one nodded, smiled, and gave a wave as the rest of the group continued on. You were left behind. You looked at the truck, almost sadly, but didn't do much more than that.

 

Curious, he jumped down from a roof top, latching onto a fire escape to slow his fall, and then let go, falling the rest of the way down to the ground, landing silently. With sudden alarm, he sank back into the shadows of a dumpster as you walked into the dim alleyway.

 

You tapped open a box of cigarettes and put one in between your teeth, but you didn't light it. Instead you put the box away and sighed, taking your smoke between your fingers your head found itself buried in your unoccupied hand, and a silent shudder ran through your body.

 

“Joining up with a gang...it's not all it's cracked up to be, is it?” Leo asked, stepping out of the shadows. He felt cold resentment for the symbols etched on ink on your skin.

 

You didn't look up. You knew that at some point, you'd run into one of the Homato clan. You recognized the voice as one of theirs. You couldn't be sure, but you thought it was the blue one with the katanas, or the purple one. Their voices sounded similar.

 

You didn't expect it to be this soon, since you were only low-key and you only had your marks since you had managed to save a big operation-oblivious to what was going on-but you did it, about a week ago. Hun himself had praised you for your ability to notice detail and recognize faces, and with Master Shreddar's-you still couldn't believe you had actually met the man!-approval, you were given tattoos of status and protection. Apparently, they really owed you for saving whatever you did on that mission.

 

You didn't want to be more heavily into a gang like them, but here you were, without a choice in the matter. All you wanted was food, and a bed, and a place to shower, goddamn it!

 

Above all, your soulmate words were written in Japanese on your hip, and you ran it through a translator online to see what it said. From that point on, you had been ever more mortified of meeting your soulmate. To be looked down upon for just trying to find a way to live. You were ashamed of what your life was, and angry that someone thought that he could look down upon you. And to add to that, it was a mortal enemy of the gang/clan that you had just joined but now were high up in the ranks just because of one observation on what you thought had been a routine initiation mission.

 

Fuck your life. Seriously.

 

“This isn't what I wanted.” You reply back.

 

The other takes a sudden breathe, and you hear the sound of a weapon being put away. You take your hand away from your face. Standing across the alley from you is a bipedal, walking talking turtle. Ninja turtle. Dear god. Your soulmate was a fucking turtle. Fuck your life. And fuck your life hard.

 

“I-sorry. I didn't-well. I don't think either of us expected this,” his facial expression turns to one of ruefulness as he gestures to the markings on his shoulder, the words that you've just spoken aloud.

 

“Nope.”

 

“If you have time then, would you want to talk? The whole soulmate thing doesn't have to be romantic only that there's-”

 

“Significance. I know. Yeah, honestly...I'd enjoy having someone to talk to other than the people in that shit storm that I'm part of now.”

 

Leo pulls down the ladder from the fire escape, and you climb up after him. At the top of the ladder, he holds out his hand to help you up, and you take it. His hand feels oddly warm, calloused and tough through years of training, but it's friendly and comforting, and everything you've wanted.

 

You think maybe this soulmate thing isn't so bad, that maybe some cosmic power actually knows what the fuck it's doing.

 

He looks at you like someone who cares, and he notices the uncertainty in your eyes.

 

He does more than just notice you this time.

 


	2. Raphael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Mrs. Morrison's doesn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, the reader uses female pronouns, and has a slight description of their person. Also, this is mostly set up for the meeting and the reader is actually involved only a little bit. 
> 
> I'm also thinking of making a full-fledged story about this, so comment if it's something you'd like to read. 
> 
> This chapter has had very little editing and if you notice errors please point them out so that I may fix them.

It's his usual visit to Mrs. Morrison, whom he tries to see at least a couple times a month to take care of any heavy-duty chores that she might not be able to do herself. Nope, it's not to visit Lucy-who's adopted him as a co-favorite-person-nope, it's not for the tea or hot chocolate or anything else-who's he kidding. He loves the old lady as a friend and a mentor, and the companionship away from his brothers is something he desperately needs every one in a while.

 

Plus, she can't see that he's technically not human and so she doesn't freak out. Even when she touched his scaled hand one he just explained it away with the excuse that he has a rare skin condition. He's not sure she bought it-a blind woman is nothing if not perceptive and Raphael knows it-but she doesn't say anything and it doesn't change the manner of which she treats him. He can tell she's still not over how he managed to give her over a hundred thousand grand so she could effectively pay for her apartment for however long she wanted to stay there.

 

He raps out a rhythmic sequence of knocks, one that lets Mrs. Morrison know exactly who's come to her door that evening. As usual, she opens the door with a smile on her face, and Lucy comes out to rub at his legs. He reaches down to give her some ear scratches as he gets through the door.

 

“Oh, Raphael. I'm glad you came today! It's been a sudden decision and happening but my great-niece has moved in with me, and I'd like you to meet her.” Mrs. Morrison says it nonchalantly and happily, as if there's nothing that can go wrong with this situation, and suddenly Raphael finds himself with cold feet.

 

“Uh, ma'am,” he swallows, “I uh-that's probably not the best choice. I-you know that skin condition I have? Well, trust me that people FREAK when they see me-”

 

Mrs. Morrison nods in understanding, and she can't bring herself to tell Raphael that she already knows that he's a turtle. She knew that almost immediately after she invited him in. Call it a sixth sense or whatever with her other senses raised due to being blind. Scales were her first clue, and a couple of times by accident her hands had brushed his shell. It didn't take her long to figure out two and two.

 

That did not, however, change her faith or opinion on the young man that visited her. Rather, it had made her more sympathetic to his plights. One of four brothers growing in cramped and somewhat strict conditions had garnered an understanding from her own childhood. And the fact that she had invited him in while he fled from a mob wasn't something that she had missed either, despite her first greetings of him.

 

Raphael had far exceeded any expectation she had of him, despite her initial misgivings of bringing him into her home the first time. He was honorable and trustworthy, and a little rough around the edges, but she didn't hesitate to remind him to mind his manners either. He took it all in stride and adapted, and she could definitely say that he was now a good friend, even if there was a significant age gap.

 

“I know that you're quite concerned, but my niece, her name is Claire-she's very...anti-social. You wouldn't have to interact with her often at all. And she doesn't have many friends, I don't mean to guilt you-”

  
“Nah, Mrs. Morrison, it's fine. Just...I don't exactly have a good track record for being social myself. Not sure I'll be of much help.”

 

“...I understand, Raphael. I'm just concerned for her.”

 

“Yeah, I getcha. I'll...give it a shot, but if you hear screaming, I'm gonna book it.”

 

Mrs. Morrison nodded and gave a small smile. “You know I appreciate everything you've done for me. I won't force the issue if it makes you uncomfortable.”

 

“I know, ma'am.”

 

The elderly woman smiled at him and then stepped into the kitchen, presumably to make some tea or something. He knew she knew how fond he was of it when she made it.

 

“Hey, Aunt Ellie, where can I set my books at? Also, I've changed the litter box out for Lucy-” You call out as you pack your armload to the front.

 

Raphael just sat down and Lucy had hopped up on his shoulders and started to purr as you walked out into the living room. You had a heavy box braced against her hip and a garbage bag in the other as you catch sight of the new person in the room.

 

Your jaw and books drop as your eyes go wide, and it's only at the last second do you manage to bump your books against your side and manage to half toss-half set them on a cushioned chair before you drop them.

 

Brown eyes behind glasses give him a once over, and then you look back to your aunt. Your pony tail of dark brown curly hair ripples as you turn, and then with disbelieving eyes, you continue your conversation. “-and I don't know where to throw the garbage out. And I didn't know we were having someone over.”

 

Raphael, with all his years of training, has become an expert when it comes to reading body language. You're ready to run, he notices, and you look caught between being openlyhostile and accepting the situation.

 

“Oh, this is Raphael,” Mrs. Morrison gestures to the table as she adds teabags to some mugs, “he stops by every now and then to help me with chores. He's a nice young man,” Mrs. Morrison says with fondness in her tone and a touch of warning.

 

“...If you say so, Aunt Ellie,” you reply.

 

“You can leave your books on the couch for now, and there's a garbage outside about five feet to the left of the door outside.”

 

“Thanks, Aunt Ellie,” you say as you side-eye Raphael the talking turtle with suspicion and hesitation, but your body language doesn't convey the latter of those two things. “Be right back.” You pass by the unusual guest without a spare glances and the door to the outside opens and shuts as you go outside.

“Well, that went better than I figured,” Raphael says as Mrs. Morrison places a mug of tea in front of him.

 

“Really?”

 

“Well,” Raphael chuckled, “she didn't run away screaming.”

 

Mrs. Morrison's brow raises in confusion, but says nothing more. “Oh! I almost forgot! I got you something, it's in my room, let me go and get it for you. I know you said you didn't have a birthday that you celebrated but since it's close to New Years, I thought of you when I was at the store the other day...” she trailed off as she bustled off to her room.

 

The front door opened and shut again.

 

Raphael slurped loudly on his tea as he met your eyes again. With her hair in a pony tail, glasses on, and judging by the advanced science and mathematics books...

 

“You're a nerd, ain't ya?” Raphael didn't mean it to be a bad thing, but after the words left his mouth, he saw brown eyes narrow and immediately wanted to correct himself.

 

Your left hand raised to your left hip as it cocked to the side. Your eyes twitched angrily, and your lips formed a response that he had read on his own right thigh before.

 

“And you're a jack ass.”

 

Raphael felt his heart jump to his throat.

 

Soul mates. They were soul mates.

 

“Oh. Shit.” Raphael growled under his breathe. Lucy purred and rubbed up against him.

 

“Oh shit is right-” you started to snarl.

 

At that moment, Mrs. Morrison came back, something wrapped in newspaper.

 

“Here it is, it took me a moment to find it, but I think it's the right one. You'll know if it's not,” she said as she placed the object in front of him.

 

Raphael made short work of the paper and looked at the thing in his hands. It was a large ceramic mug, decorated with a turtle shell pattern.

 

“Aw, thanks Mrs. Morrison,” Raphael looked at the cup, appreciating the variety of greens on it before...”WAIT A SECOND! Mrs. Morrison do you-”

 

“I'm blind, not oblivious, Raphael,” she laughed kindly. "And I have a box of tea to give you to go along with it.”

 

“...Thanks. I love it.” Raphael grinned as he put the mug down and hugged the woman.

 

“Now, I'm going to take my tea and go lay down, since it sounds like you two might need to have a talk,” Mrs. Morrison patted her great-niece's shoulder and headed toward the back.

 

“Well,” Raphael started, “this is awkward.”

 

“Trust me, you don't know the half of it,” you sigh. “So. What do we do now?”

 

“My sensei says the best thing we can do is to do is talk. I ain't ever been much for that, but in this case, I'll make an exception. We should do introductions right. My name's Raphael. What's yours?” he asks as he holds out his hand.

 

Your expression became less clipped with his friendlier tone, and you reply while reaching out.

 

“Claire.”

 

The two of you shake hands, and the mood in the room lifts considerably.

 

You think that this might have some rough spots, but that this might turn out alright.

 


End file.
